The Grasshopper locomotive now placed in Carillon Park chose to tell
its own story of its origin, its experiences, its hopes, its fears and
its present feeling. With the assistance of Lawrence W. Sagle of the B
& O staff, Old No. 1 here tells its story.
Boy, what a relief to have your future definitely settled! Especially if
you have worked hard for 57 years, and then been pushed around for an
additional 55 years, fearful all the time that you may be cut up for
scrap. You can appreciate how I feel, now that I have a nice cozy home
here at Carillon Park in Dayton, Ohio.
What say? Oh, of course. Let me introduce myself. I am old Grasshopper
Locomotive No. 1. And the oldest original B & O locomotive in existence.
That, alone, is something to be proud of! And do I have a long and
colorful history? Let me tell you about some of its highlights.
I was built way back in July, 1835, one of a group of improved
grasshopper locomotives then being placed in service on the B & O. We
fellows were really good in those days. The old “Atlantic” and
“Traveller” had been retired the year before I was built. Just between
us, they weren’t much to speak of. We new engines, named for Presidents
of the United States and other great statesmen, could run rings around
them. I was proud to be named the “John Quincy Adams.” And there was the
“George Washington,” for instance. He led the parade of the first trains
into Washington, D. C., on August 25, 1835—and I was second in line—to
make railroad history. He finally ended his career out around Wheeling,
Va., in 1853. He had hauled rail cars down the line as the railroad was
pushed eastward to Roseby’s Rock, where the tracks were joined on
December 24, 1852. Good old George! I wish he could have lived to see me
now, snug as a bug in my new home.
You’ll have to pardon my ramblings. You know how we old fellows like to
look back and talk about the “good old days.”
Well, time passed, and then we were more or less pushed into the
background by the newer, more powerful locomotives that came along. I’ll
never forget the first Winan’s Camel. Gosh, what a fright he gave me! I
thought he would topple over and crush me. But I soon got used to those
big fellows. And then, in 1850, they took my distinguished name away
from me. Imagine how I felt being just plain No. 6, instead of “John
Quincy Adams.” But I kept on working as if nothing had happened although
I was no longer in main line service. I felt very diminutive compared to
the Mud-diggers and Camels. And in 1884, they changed me to No. 1. Well,
that was better! I was the oldest locomotive on the B & O. That was
something to be proud of, even then.
[Illustration: The John Quincy Adams proudly bearing the number “1”
bids goodbye to Mount Clare Station on eve of departure for Carillon
Park.]
So things drifted along until there were only four of us left. There was
old “Andrew Jackson” (built in February, 1836), “John Hancock” (built in
April, 1836) and “Martin Van Buren” (built in November, 1836), all good,
stout fellows. All four of us were doing switching duty at the Mt. Clare
Shops in Baltimore. And, although we were numbered 1, 2, 3 and 4, when
in our stalls at night, we called each other by our old names. John,
Andy, Marty and I (they called me “J.Q.”) would talk far into the night
about the early days of the railroad and how little those newer, bigger
locomotives seemed to know—or care—about such things.
Well, sir, things drifted along until one day in 1892 a group of
distinguished men dropped around and looked us over. There was one
chatty old fellow with a goatee, who seemed to have some plans for our
future. I learned later that he was Major Pangborn, and what he did to
me shouldn’t have happened to a Mud-digger! He took us all into the
shop, worked on us for days and—of all things!—altered me to resemble
the “Traveller” and altered “Andy” to resemble the “Atlantic,” two old
boys that couldn’t pull your hat off in a mild windstorm! What a
come-down! But old “Marty” got the worst treatment of all. He was
altered to resemble that old “crab” locomotive, the “Mazeppa,” with
dummy horizontal cylinders and his beautiful grasshopper legs ripped
off. Oh, the ignominy of it all! John fared better than the rest of us.
He got a new coat of paint and a new name. They painted “Thomas
Jefferson” on his cab. That, in a way, was a sad blow to us also. Old
Tom had passed on in 1860, but we all remembered him fondly. We were a
confused lot of locomotives, I can tell you!
But we were not long in learning what it was all about. They loaded us
on some gondola cars—imagine the sensation of riding on a railroad car,
pulled by another, bigger locomotive, when, all of your lifetime had
been spent in pulling cars yourself—and for several days we travelled
over rails we had never seen before. Boy! What mountains and grades we
crossed. I doubt if I could have pushed a single car up some of them and
I admired greatly the brute strength of the big fellow on the head end
of our train and the one that pushed on the rear end.
We finally reached Chicago, and were placed on exhibition at the great
World’s Fair. Here the B & O was commended for its wonderful historical
display, and people by the thousands came and looked at us and made
remarks about how small we were compared to modern locomotives and went
away. We had our brief hour of glory, and after the show, they hauled us
back to Martinsburg and put us away to rust. Andy—I mean Atlantic—was
cleaned up and sent to the St. Louis Fair in 1904, where the B & O was
awarded a special gold medal for the most complete transportation
display, and then, in 1927, he and John were taken to the Fair of the
Iron Horse. Marty and I thought we were going to be in that show. They
brought us to Baltimore, but changed their minds about us. We were in
really bad shape! And when they sent the two of us to the Wicomico
Street scrap yards, my heart jumped right up on top of my crown sheet.
Surely, this was the end!
[Illustration: Number 1 arrives in Dayton and is lifted from freight
car to motor trailer for final trip to its permanent home.]
[Illustration: The “Lafayette,” built in 1837, the first B & O
engine with horizontal boiler and six wheels, began transition from
vertical boiler type.]
But as the years dragged on, and we still sat on the siding, our upper
parts crated over, we displayed that kind of patience that only an old
locomotive is capable of as he sits for long tedious hours on the shop
track, waiting for the day when he will be fixed up and running again.
We did get a thrill of expectancy when we were moved to Bailey’s Museum,
but there we sat in a corner and nothing was done to fix us up. I was
ashamed when visitors saw me in such a condition. I would wince at the
remarks they made about our junky appearance. It was worse for Marty,
his beautiful grasshopper legs gone, and with those dummy tin cylinders
bolted to his frame to make him look like a “crab” locomotive. I’m
afraid that he is now a hopeless mental case.
[Illustration: The “Camel” built by Ross Winans went into service in
1848. This engine had no pony wheels. Altogether 122 were built for
B & O.]
[Illustration: This painting depicts the memorable scene, Christmas
Eve in 1852 when Maryland and Ohio were first joined by rail.]
[Illustration: Time table giving the schedule of the B & O in early
days.]
One day in April, 1947, they hustled me to the Mt. Clare Shops. I was
completely bewildered. I didn’t recognize the old shops where I had been
built 112 years ago and where I had worked up to 1892. Everything was so
much larger, and the great machines and cranes! And those big
locomotives! Wow! Anyway, they began to work on me, and I soon realized
that I was being changed back to the way I looked in 1892, before Major
Pangborn had me changed to resemble (ugh!) the “Traveller.” Then, from
the conversations I overheard, I pieced out the story, which is
something like this:
Col. E. A. Deeds (there’s a nice man, if ever there was one, and
interested in preserving a good old locomotive!), Chairman of the Board
of The National Cash Register Company of Dayton, Ohio, was planning to
establish a museum in Carillon Park in that city. And one of the things
he needed was an old locomotive—and I was available and willing.
[Illustration: The Baltimore & Ohio Depot in Washington in 1835 when
first train entered the nation’s capital. This was an event of great
importance and one in which old No. 1 proudly participated. The
President of the United States witnessed the arrival of the
cavalcade led by the “Atlantic.”]
So I was reconditioned and painted up until I could hardly believe 55
long years had passed. Then they pushed me out to the old Mt. Clare
Station and photographed me. Goodness me, how memories flooded back over
the years. The day, for instance, in 1835, when we lined up there before
that same station for the first trip into Washington, D. C. I surely did
feel proud, standing there having my picture taken.
[Illustration: The Thomas Viaduct on the B & O between Baltimore and
Washington spanning the Patapsco River is the oldest railroad stone
viaduct in the world. Built in 1835, many said it would not even
support the three-and-a-half-ton Grasshoppers. Yet it has never
faltered under the heaviest of modern trains.]
So, once more I found myself on a gondola, riding in style over the
mountains to the West. And finally I reached Dayton on November 6. Then
the celebration began. A big crane lifted me, light as you please, out
of the car on to a heavy trailer that was used to haul me over to the
park. And who do you think was down at the siding to welcome me? None
other than Colonel Deeds, himself! And with him were Messrs. E. D.
Smith, NCR plant engineer; R. H. Hagerman, NCR traffic manager; Carl
Beust, head of NCR Patent Department; T. J. Klauenberg, B & O division
superintendent; C. P. Mabie, B & O division freight agent, and M. C.
Schwab, B & O freight agent. They were so pleased at my coming to town
that they had a big luncheon to celebrate, and my picture was in the
papers and everything.
And you should see the beautiful house they built for me at the Park. It
looks just like an old railroad station, except I am inside instead of
the passengers. It is built on part of the old railroad on the south
bank of the old Miami and Erie Canal. It’s a beautiful setting in which
to house an old locomotive as important as I am.
So, here I am, proud as a peacock in my new home. Come out and see me
sometime. I expect to be here for a long, long time. As long as America
is a great, free country—forever, I hope!
[Illustration: The development of the locomotive has continued over
the years to the giant Diesels of today. The “Memnon” was built in
1848, and called the “Old War Horse” for its Civil War service.]
[Illustration: This was the modern locomotive of 1896, built for
fast passenger service between Philadelphia and Washington. It was
designed by the superintendent of motive power of the B & O.]
[Illustration: A modern steam locomotive used to haul fast
merchandise freight trains in mountainous districts and for general
freight road service. Built by Baldwin Locomotive Works in 1944.]
[Illustration: Two-unit, 4,000-horsepower, Diesel-electric
locomotive used for hauling heavy passenger trains. On the basis of
performance the Diesel seems well on the way to replacing the steam
locomotive.]
[Illustration: Replica in miniature of the “Cincinnati,” first
locomotive to pull a passenger train into Dayton on the old
Cincinnati, Hamilton & Dayton Railroad, which later became part of
the Baltimore & Ohio system.]
The “Cincinnati”
The “Cincinnati,” prototype of the replica in miniature on display in
Deeds Barn, was typical of the locomotives that in the 1850’s were
beginning to establish a new transportation network across Ohio and the
Middle West.
These locomotives and their successors were to doom the canal system
which played such an important role in development of the West. Although
the Miami and Erie Canal—which linked Dayton to Cincinnati and
Toledo—had its peak year in 1851 when the “Cincinnati” first steamed
into Dayton, canal operating expenses outran revenue only five years
later. In 1877, official operation of the canal ended. In the march of
progress, the railroad had won.
The “Cincinnati” was built by the Harkness firm of Cincinnati, and was
one of the most advanced locomotives of its day. Its honest
functionalism, as evidenced by the businesslike cow-catcher and the
monstrous stack designed to trap dangerous wood sparks, makes this type
of locomotive, called an “American,” a favorite with railroad fans.
How long the “Cincinnati” remained in service with the C. H. & D.
Railroad, and its ultimate fate are not known, but the colorful
locomotive and others of its kind made possible significant gains in
man’s never-ending quest for better transportation.